


Keep your enemies closer.

by Luna_sharp618



Series: Hazbin Hotel Ficlets [4]
Category: Hazbin Hotel
Genre: Alcohol, Angel in drag, Awkward First Times, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sex, Sir Pen however is not, Unexpected Language kink, clubs, dont judge me, don’t worry guys Angel’s a professional, snakes have two dicks- deduce of that what you will...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 05:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17440874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_sharp618/pseuds/Luna_sharp618
Summary: An unexpected transaction takes place in the shadows.





	Keep your enemies closer.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of the brilliant comic by Heather Watkins (ih8pickinganame) on Twitter. So the first half is based off of the comic but this fic does peel away from the comic during the first half because of course this is porn if you haven’t figured that out yet. This is like my second time writing smut so be gentle with me, but I hope yall enjoy this monstrosity :)

The club is alive with the pounding bass and vibrant flashes of colour bathing it’s intoxicated patrons as they flail their limbs in a clumsy mimic of dancing. Drinks are spilled and feet are stepped on as drugs are passed around like sweets at a birthday party. Leaning against the bar lay two predators that survey their lands, sharpening their glances of seduction whilst sipping lazily at their kaleidoscopic drinks. 

Together they stand, putting themselves on display to potential admirers like two queens of the night. To the right stands Angel Dust, draped in a aubergine gown that leaves little to the imagination as it hugs his body like a second skin while a wig of warm candlelight gold frames his painted face and cold sneer of allurement. Loyally by his side stands Cherri, her hair impeccably chaotic as it refracts the splashes of spotlight that scans the crowd like searchlights hunting an escaped convict. Her attire less delicate as Angel’s but nonetheless enticing, showing articulate curves and freckled skin as she sways to the pulsation of the club’s beat and sipping at the rim of her glass. 

“Oooh, what about him?” Cherri speaks up, nodding towards a buff demon, flashing his sharp apparel and chrome scales that glimmer with sweat as he struts his way through the crowd of flailing bodies that move as one, acting like violent waves crashing against each other before receding into the arms of another dance partner.

“Hmmm..” Angels eyes harden as he analyses his potential bathroom shag with alarming intensity “nah, his watch is fake and he’s been rocking that hair cut for two years- deadbeat, not worth my time” he states with little emotion before going back to surveying the sea of club goers getting high on the lifeblood of the night. 

“Hmm” Cherri ponders, giving the demon a final once over before doing the same as her arachnid friend.

Time passes by and they have yet to move from their prime spot by the bar as they make their way through drinks supplied by other people’s money. The music switches effortlessly onto another track, changing the mood of the lulled crowd as they shed themselves of their exhausted shimmying in favour for a hyped up whirl of movement. 

“Come on AD, it’s dead back here” her expression hones into a predatory grin “time to mingle” 

Angel allows himself to be hoisted from his stiff seat by the cyclop’s strong, persistent grip that drags him from the bar.

“Excussse me missss?” a timid voice hisses from beside them. In tandem they turn to see the awkward serpent form of their Victorian rival, Sir Pentious. “Could I buy you a drink? You look lovely- uh, I mean—!” He pulls a note out from under his hat, shaking slightly with nerves “you look like a..sssnack..?” 

Angel stares at him with a expression of disbelief as the sense is knocked out of him with the sudden shock as Cherri struggles to keep a steady intake of breath through her stifled cackle. 

Sir Pentious choughs lamely into his curled fist, “eyebrows on fleek?” He looks about ready to pass out. 

Angel stares at him for a beat before regaining the function to speak. His expression twists into a sneer of superiority, the sharpness of his painted face intimidating the serpent as he leans in close.

 

“You seriously don’t remember me?” Angel places a hand against his breast in fashionable offence.

The snake’s face pinches with well-founded confusion. 

Angel huffs a frustrated breath before reaching up to pull at the fastenings of his bold hair piece and peeling the heavy set of fake lashes from his eyelids. “Eh?” He presents himself with a nonchalant expression, trying you jumpstart the other demon’s memory. 

“Weird flex but OK” the shock of Angel’s transformation from stunning woman to hot dude throwing him off completely. 

“Are you kidding me?” Angel’s voice raising slightly against the thrum of the music rippling around them “there’s no forgettin’ this mug - I’m fuckin’ adorable” offence solidifies in his words accompanied by the icy glare forced upon the snake. 

“True” Sir Pen utters with a pinched brow. 

“You got your shit fucked up by us the other day!” Angel declares, almost poking the demons eye out with an accusational fling of his arm. Cherri peaks her laughter-reddened face out from behind the spider’s slender frame, desperate to keep up with the ebb and flow of the confrontation despite practically bursting at the seams with tactless laughter. 

“Oh...well that’sss awkward” his face drops with the daunting realisation that he is literally attempting to get a leg over, well..tail over his most hated rival. A revolting sickness churns in the pit of his stomach while his hat squeezes uncomfortably atop his head with growing fog of uneasiness that shrouds over them, “I guesss I should go” In a hasty decision fuelled on an overload of embarrassment he turns away, grasping at the brim of his hat to alleviate the sentient garments humiliated clamping. 

Angel allows his hand to be encircled by the strong grip of Cherri as she leads him away, the promise of a good gossip session over this blunder already cracking a devilish grin across her freckled face. The spider however can’t help but keep his eyes glued to the snivelling serpent as he tries to barge his way through the drunken crowd. An unnamed feeling spirals uncomfortably beneath his ribs. Maybe that 5th jager bomb was a bad idea? or perhaps his dress is too tight? Or maybe it’s the dreaded feeling of empathy poisoning his bloodstream like the injection of a favoured needle. 

He rolls his eyes with a sigh, damning the barely functional moral compass that spins feebly at the back of his mind. Fixing the impressive wig back onto his head, he removes his hand from Cherri’s grasp, still fiddling with the clasps that secure the back of the wig to his real hair. 

“I’ll catch you later CB, I’ve got something I need to take care of” he states while flashing her an apologetic grin and adjusting his fluffy bosom. 

“Alright AD, just gimme something to bitch about later” she flashes back an impressively toothy smirk. 

“Don’t I always?” Without waiting for a response he blows the wild eyed cyclops a kiss before turning away, preparing himself for the dance of Serpent seduction. 

—

“Hey” a sultry voice accompanied by a crack of searing pain creeps up his elongated spine, literally pinning him to the floor. Quickly Sir Pen turns, the frill attached to his head opening in defence, preparing for a fully fledged round of fisticuffs. 

But instead, he comes face to face with his rival dressed to the nines with a hungry smirk playing across his features. The serpent's heart leaps into his dried throat out of shock as a cold chill scrapes its way down his back- but that could just be because Angel’s boot is digging into the tender flesh of his tail. 

“I thought you were buying me a drink?” Angel’s voice is soft, slipping into flirtatious as he flutters his eyelashes. This therefore giving off the desired effect of making the Victorian inventor choke on his own stuttering breath. 

“I- i beg your pardon” He stammers, trying to keep his cool in this unexpected turn of events. 

“Money is money and alcohol is alcohol” the spider shrugs with an air of placid indifference before leaning in to grasp the snakes padded shoulders “so I’ll take the offer- even if you are, well, you” 

 

—- 

The bar is sticky and the leather seat is stiff but he’s managed to gain the alluring gaze of another demon and that’s the closest he’s got to first base in a long time. 

A warm palm settles itself against the crook of his elbow in a perfect attempt at nudging his attention back into the loud, overcrowded thickness of the seedy club he has chosen to socialize in. Such a juxtaposition to the hushed environment of his lab, where he tinkers with new inventions and slaps his imbecilic minions out of the way. 

 

“So what’s your deal?” Angel questions while reaching for the neatly presented bottle of Rosè placed before him by the bartender “out here, Hittin’ on people? Were you trying to get laid tonight?” 

Sir Pen’s fangs dig nervously into the flesh of his lip at the bluntness of the comment. Quietly he observes the other demon take a swig of wine straight from the bottle, whilst he battles with his own dilapidating relationship struggles. 

“Not necessssarily...” he pauses “I just thought I should try and actually socialize for once, I spend so much time ssscheming I don’t really make myself available” 

Angel on the other hand makes himself comfortable by removing his wig, ruffling his pink dotted hairstyle back into its adorable but gravitationally defying state. Fluidly he takes the bottle back in hand and brings it to his lips, listening to the demon’s pitiful rant. 

“Haven’t got your dick wet in a while, huh?” He muses over the rim of the glass bottle, enjoying the sudden blush swamping the serpent’s features. For a cold blooded reptile he sure does get hot flashes of embarrassment fast. 

“That’sss a rather personal question!” He retorts, forked tongue grown heavy in his mouth as he stumbles for some composure. While Angel abandons the concept of lady-like grace in favour of downing the rest of his beverage. 

“But...” Sir Pen’s features drop into broken honesty as he traces the rim of his glass. The urge to fight the oncoming conversation completely gone “I suppose if I’m being honest, no” he breathes a sigh of defeat “neither of of them have ‘gotten wet’ for quite some time” 

Angel chokes on his drink, alcohol and spittle caught in the back of his throat as the serpent’s words catch him unguarded. 

“Sorry, did you say neither? As in plural? Dicks-uh, multiple dicks?” His disbelief may as well be written on his forehead in sharpie as it is so obvious to hear in his blunt words. 

Sir Pen’s face loses it’ stuttering awkwardness for a calm deadpan. 

“I’m a sssnake. I have two” 

Angel’s face twists into a wiry grin, needlepoint teeth digging into his bottom lip to suppress the impending need to burst into hysterics. 

“You’re kidding me, right?” the spider scrunches his brow with overt disbelief. 

“No, I’m serious” liquid courage blunting his usually guarded actions. 

“Uh-uh, I have to see this” The spider downs the rest of his drink and removes himself from the bar stool “c’mon” 

Sir Pen watches him silently retrieve his wig and pat down his dress, fixing his bust against his fluffy cleavage. Sharply he looks up, catching the gaze of the slightly tipsy serpent. Two of his four arms dart out to pull him from his seat. “C’mon” the spider prompts as he grips Pentious’ wrist. 

Sir Pentious is quick to gain his wobbly balance and follow the other man’s lead as he is pulled hastily from the stiff leather cradle of the bar stool, “Where are we going?” 

“I know a place downtown” Angel replies, barging his way through the drunken dancers and their wandering hands, “somewhere more...comfortable” 

Sir pen almost swallows his forked tongue at the whispered promise. His wrist remaining limp in the spider’s persistent grip as he is led toward the club exit. Not deaf to hear the jeers of his fellow club goers in outcry of the ‘banana slug getting the hottie’. 

——

 

The ‘place downtown’ is actually a dingy motel room that stinks of unpleasant things and dead rats- The exact definition of ‘somewhere more comfortable’. 

Angel barges the door open enough to allow his guest to slither across the threshold, taking in the putrid surroundings. 

“Homey don’t ya think?” Angel beams, shoving the door closed. His hand reaches to lock the door shut but is surprised to find the bolt actually coming loose in his hand. So much for guaranteed privacy. 

Oh well. 

He chucks the bolt-lock towards the bin. The dull thump of it landing against the ancient carpet blending into the screams and groans that accompany the whole motel. 

“You live here?” Sir Pentious pinches his brow while taking in the cramped room. The wallpaper has peeled from the concrete walls and there is a battered old couch sitting lamely before them. It’s cushions sagging with a lack of stuffing and covered with miscellaneous stains. 

“Nah, Joe at the front desk keeps it available for me when I need it” the spider throws his wig onto the coffee table while sauntering his way up to the dapper reptile. 

“For ssssexual liaisonsss with ssstrangers you mean?” He snips, eyes unmoving from the prominent leak drip-drip-dripping from the roof. 

“Not strangers” Angel weaves his hands up around the other demon’s body “I know you don’t I?” 

“Hardly” deflecting words act as his only barrier against the sinfully delicate touch of Angel’s hands stroking his shoulders and sensitive rim of his frill.

“Well let’s change that then” he purrs. Gently pushing the serpent over to the dreary sofa “how’s about we relax?” 

The couch dips noticeably under their combined weight, groaning and creaking as his coils settle upon the weak framework. Angel’s hands remain in contact with his scales, fingers rubbing tiny circles into the taut muscle in an attempt to coerce his client into a lax state. It just makes transactions so much easier. 

“Comfy?” The question is barely a whisper in his direction before he is abruptly shoved backwards. Two pairs of firm hands pin his shoulders to the arm rest as his body is entrapped by the arachnid’s lithe body. 

Angel is glaring down at him from where he straddles the serpent’s struggling tail, taking obvious satisfaction in having the demon caged between his splayed thighs. 

“Comfy?” He asks again, almost at a growl. 

Liquid courage and biting remarks dissolve in an instant as timidity overpowers the snake’s actions. His breathing becomes a little panicked and his tail fidgets restlessly as words get stuck in his throat. A heavy blush settles upon his features, shading his dark skin a cloudy rouge.

And hands! He’s not really sure what to with his hands as they tremor slightly. He’s never really been in this position before- sure he’s had a few encounters in the darkness of the sexual kind but this is something new. 

New and terrifying. 

“I-uh...yesss?” He manages to hiss out a quiet reply. 

“You don’t sound too sure about that” Angel’s face shifts from alarmingly dominating to endearing as he retracts his grip from the other man’s shoulders “we can stop-“

“No!” Sir Pen nearly head-butts the demon above him as he convulses. He needs this to happen! He needs to feel this. He needs to have an encounter where he can brag about a secret sexual liaison with a stunning stranger. Imagine the street cred he’d get! “No, I want to keep doing..that..pleassse” 

“Well OK” his voice slips back into its domineering tone, sounding as perfect as new leather gloves hugging the expanse of unguarded flesh. The grip on Sir Pen’s shoulders returns once more, only just a tad softer. Holding him rather than pinning him “how’s about we start with massage? Hmm? To get you to relax, cause honey you are-“ his hands rub deeply into the strained muscles of Sir Pen’s neck and shoulders “so tense”

Pentious can’t help but release a contented sigh as his expression goes all doe-eyed and his body surrenders to the arachnid’s expert touch. His tail twitching happily under the ministrations, giving himself up to the deep reach of the fingers rubbing soothing circles against his chest. 

He’s so submerged under the devilish touch that he hardly registers the press of Angel’s painted lips against his own. It’s quick and chaste and the only way he can be certain that it did happen is the taste of cherry lipstick ghosting over his lips. 

“Let’s get out of these clothes, it’s getting hot in here” Angel muses in a hushed tone. Abruptly, two of the four hands relinquish their adventure of mapping out the serpent’s body in favour of unbuttoning the demon’s immaculate attire. 

“What do I do?” Pentious asks hesitantly, still a little intoxicated by the spider’s touch. His hands are twitching uselessly by his sides, needing guidance on what actions would be most appropriate. His tongue still probing at his bottom lip to retain just a fraction more of that sour cherry taste. 

Tenderly one hand that was loosening the snake’s bow tie, reaches down to cover over Sir Pen’s twitching hand. Gently guiding it up to sit upon Angel’s cleavage. Sir Pen remains quiet as his hand makes contact with the divine softness of the spider’s fluff, allowing it to tickle his fingertips as a fiery heat begins to blossom deep in his abdomen. 

“Could you pull my dress off, hon?” Angel asks, trying to keep his voice as light as possible though he can feel himself already succumbing to the need that poisons his blood stream. 

Sir Pen, after a moment's hesitation, grips the aubergine coloured dress at the hem of the bust, pulling ever so slightly to reveal more of the delicate mounds of fluff. 

“Ohhh ~” Angel moans sinfully from above, taking an indulgent pause to enjoy the slow peel of his dress before resuming with removing the serpent’s dress jacket. His fuzz covered body turning pinker as a growing blush blooms through him. “That’s nice” 

Deftly, nimble fingers make light work of Sir Pen’s jacket. Velvet clad hands push up under the fabric, spreading it apart to reveal a scaled chest beneath. 

“Oh” Pentious chokes out a broken gasp as Angel’s hands roam further up his exposed scales. Skittering heart thumping a mile a minute beneath his rib cage and his brilliant brain momentarily stuttering to a halt. Angel hums in approval, massaging the cold muscle tissue beneath him. 

They stay like this for a few moments, partly undressed, basking in the feel of being pressed against the other. Only the sound of heavy breathing and the sofa creaking under their combined weight acts as their ambience of seduction. 

Angel looks down upon the dazed expression of his chosen bed (sofa) partner of the evening, taking pride in having reduced him to a blushing mess. That is until he moves his gaze upward a fraction and becomes pinned under the unimpressed glare of the hat. It watches him as if it can see through him. Picking him apart from the inside, not in the least bit pleased with how it’s owner is behaving. 

Now, being looked down upon by other demons because you’re a porn star that prostitutes themselves out for drug money is one thing, but being looked down upon by head wear is another. Angel glares back at the offended chapeau while doubling down his tender touch, slipping the clothes from over the serpent's shoulders, and with a little bit of struggle, off his body entirely. Gracelessly allowing it to fall the ground like a useless lottery ticket- angel has a much bigger prize plaguing the pleasure centres of his cunning brain. 

The hat’s scowl hardens over the careless actions of the floozy swindling it’s owner. Baring it’s pointed teeth out of frustration as it’s master chokes out a bitten off whine at the growing tightness coiling under his sweat glazed scales. 

Without further contemplation, Angel flicks the item from Sir Pen’s head with a justified grin, savouring it’s wide eyed shock as it sails through the air before hitting the filthy motel floor. Discarded like common street trash, laying amongst age old dust bunnies and shards of glass that had escaped the blasè attempt at hoovering over the wiry carpet. 

 

“Huh-?” Sir Pen’s attention flickers upward momentarily to try and piece together the mystery of the missing hat but Angel is far quicker at correcting his client’s attention. Swiftly, Pentious’ hands are clasped from where they loiter around Angel’s waist, having pushed the dress as far as possible downward, and shoved into the naked fluff of the prostitute’s cleavage. 

“Why don’t you play with this while I get us sorted?” Angel hints before divesting himself of the rest of his satin dress, taking his time to savour the slow drag of the strip as if ingesting the first draw from a morning cigar. 

Pentious remains frozen in place for a brief moment. His face is a rosy red with bashfulness and his fingers twitch apprehensively atop the silky imitation of breasts, almost afraid to push his fingertips any further lest he be scolded for being greedy. 

“Go on hon” Angel leans in close, hot breath ghosting over the sweaty scales of Sir Pen’s jugular. One hand delicately covering over his callous claws, gently encouraging them to explore deeper, “it’s all yours” 

With that burst of encouragement, the snake cautiously begins to run his fingers through the rounded fluff, savouring the way it yields under his inexperienced fondling. An animalistic segment of his brain gorges itself on the pornographic moans pouring from the other man’s lips as he tugs and combs through the white fuzz, spurring Pentious on to experiment with what amount of pressure he can inflict to draw out what reaction. His frill flickering with excitement as he uncovers how to make the spider moan with a quick grope while a tender grooming of pointed claws through the dense fluff will cause him to collapse into a squirming mess. 

“Oh~ Yes, like that, just like that” Angel praises from above. His composure slipping slightly in the slow build of heat that begins to ignite between them. Once delicate and sensuous hands now curl into fists as a slapdash way to savour the sweet glow of arousal pooling in his abdomen. Eyes clamp shut and sharp teeth bite into the pale flesh of his own lip as he gives himself up to the developing onslaught of roaming hands to his sensitive bosom. 

He feels lost in the endorphins and the musk of sex that begins to shroud them. The sensations of ragged breath and ragged hands send a fire bolt of electricity down to his groin, which has already started to plump up eagerly. Without any discretion he flings off the rest of the dress that provides the last line of coverup, revealing his wanton erection, and lack of pants (no surprise there) to the shuddering reptile. 

He watches Sir Pen’s gaze travel down from where they were fixated on playing with the satiny fluff, all the way to the glistening appearance of Angel’s weeping cock. All the serpent’s cold blood rushes down south immediately, leaving his brain starved for thought as a familiar burning begins within his cloaca. Angel watches in stunned fascination for a moment as a wide slit just below his client’s midriff starts to open up, revealing the burgeoning rise of two dicks. 

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding” Angel whispers in authentic shock, not removing his eyes from the unexpectedly wonderful sight. Out of sheer curiosity and lust fuelled thinking, the spider reaches out towards the erections, trailing one gloved hand over the hot flesh, eliciting an innocent gasp from his client. Angel hums in sly contentment. 

Furtively he leans forward till his face is mere centimetres away from the serpent’s, with eyes hooded in a sultry manner. Warm hands on his chest still mindlessly playing with his gossamer fluff as he watches Sir Pen shiver like a blushing virgin. A toothy grin stretches upon his features at the idea and without further ado he grasps hold of just one of the snake’s twitching erections, loving the way the demon betwixt his thighs bucks into the contact. 

“Hmm” Angel nuzzles against the rosy cheek of his client, listening intimately to his ragged breaths as he desperately keens into his firm grip. “Tell me..” he voice barely above a whisper “has anyone ever touched you down here? Anyone special? Huh? Or am I just special?” 

Sir Pentious chokes on his unsteady breaths, blush rising in his own embarrassment at the words coiling around his blood starved brain. His erection twitching eagerly under the spider’s ministrations and hands unmoving from the prostitute’s impressionable cleavage. 

“I-uh, wh...when I was alive...yes” he stammers with a dry mouth and heavy tongue. 

“But have you touched yourself down here?” Angel smirks, trying to keep control of the conversation as best as possible without giving into temptation and jacking them both off to completion. This is a dance. An exercise of acute sensation and lust in perfect balance. His client is the, literal, snake and he is the charmer, weaving his touch like the delicate music to entice the serpent into a enraptured trance. Plus he wants to make this a lasting impression on his rival. To leave him feeling as dominated in the territorial war as he feels right now as he quakes and gasps under the spider’s expert touch. “Have you been naughty? Hmm? Do you play with yourself down here? Do you think of bad things? How loud do you get? Do you have to bite your tongue as you fuck your fists to make sure those little minions of yours don’t come running and see what a horny slut their boss is being?”

Sir Pen is too lost in the needy flow of arousal to even give a coherent reply, nodding and whimpering as the demon straddling him pours poison in his ears. Angel begins to pump the throbbing cock with experienced precision, squeezing and rubbing at just the right moments to pull broken moans from the serpent’s lips. Lazily he flicks his thumb over the cock’s glistening head, smearing viscous precome around as it dribbles feebly from the tip, easing the slide of his palm and making a pearly white mess of his satin glove. 

“Oh piccola~” Angel sighs sensuously, barely registering his slip in language. 

But what he does register is the generous twitch both cocks display accompanied by the jagged moan that escapes from his client. A devious glint brightens within Angel’s eye as an idea begins to spiral. 

“Ti piace quando parlo Italiano?” Angel questions as his hand sweeps underneath to grasp at the second cock that he has so far neglected. The demon, over which he straddles, all but quakes as another groan is ripped from his vocal chords. 

The cocks within his firm hold throb eagerly for friction as Angel begins to pump them in unison. His own breath becoming short with the need to find relief for his own weeping prick. 

Pentious continues to knead mindlessly at the fluffy breasts before him, squeezing and exploring the expanse of white fuzz as his blood boils with intense need. He feels powerless to stop the spring of pleasure coiling in his abdomen as his testicles draw up tight and gives in to the primal need to buck up into the tight grip around his heated flesh.

“I-i...I” He stammers with uncertainty. Fists curling sharply into the silken cleavage as his pricks throb within the other demon’s fiery grasp. Squeezing and pumping and rubbing and teasing. Precome dribbles copiously from only one penis as the other twitches with need, engorged with blood and lust. 

“Bene! Bene!” Angel chants, feeling the cocks in his grasp begin to stiffen with the promise of an oncoming orgasm. Mercilessly he continues his onslaught of frictions, determined to bring them to completion while hyped up on the sensation of claws clutching desperately at his sensitive fluff. Selfishly he brings his arm down to satisfy his own carnal needs, rubbing at himself like a bitch in heat to reach satisfaction “Oh Yes!” 

“I-I, I’m coming!” That is the final push Sir Pen needed to send him toppling over the edge to completion. His body tingles as he releases himself into the hand of his rival, leaving him shivering in the quake of a double orgasm- something he has never brought upon himself in the quiet hours when certain he was alone. His vision blurs and voice cracks as pleasure washes over him, bathing with the sweet sign of relief, falling helplessly into the darkness. 

It isn’t until hours later that he is blinking awake into the cold light of the morning. A dilapidating ache pounds through his head as his back screams in agony after spending hours on the wonky frame of a tired old couch. His mouth is wretchedly dry with a lingering taste of stale alcohol and...cherry? Slowly he sits up, cursing the pain of his damned body and finally noticing that he is in fact naked, covered haphazardly with a moth chewed blanket. 

With the impact of a car crash the events of last night slam into him, splintering across his memory like shattered glass. He is quick to spot his dress jacket and hat folded neatly upon the coffee table beside him. His hat giving him an unimpressed glare from where it sits. Not feeling in the right mental state to silently argue with a hat he ignores it, instead looking around his environment for the harlot that trailed him up here. 

To his surprise the seedy apartment is empty, with only him to house as angry light of a nearby fire filters through the blinds. Upon the table however is evidence of his voluptuous encounter in the form of a note. Intrigued, he reaches for it- scolding the minute pinch in his optic nerve as he squints to read the messy cursive splattered across the page.

~ To Double Dick,  
(sorry I can’t remember your name), 

You’ve passed out and are still dead to the world on the sofa as I write this. I’ll hope you appreciate that I’ve cleaned you up and folded your clothes. I’ve taken $50 out of your wallet as payment for my services and I’m going back to the club to spend it. 

Laterz, Angel Dust X 

Ps. If you’re ever feeling naughty again, remember to gimme a call so I can straighten you out ;) ~ 

Sir Pen reads over the card with a pinched brow, cursing the rising blush that heats his face. Upon the back of the card is a phone number. Temptation lurks greedily in the shadows of his mind, whispering gluttonous pleasures to him as he takes in the row of digits. 

Preposterous! 

He lets the card fall back onto the table with a loud clatter as it bounces on the polished wood. That was a one time thing! Never again will he fall prey to that sensuous voice or gleaming eyes. He is a man of science! An inventor of ingenious machines and plots to become the ruler of this literal hell hole. He cannot fall slave to his basic desires. Never must he want to coil himself around that petite figure and rub against that silky fluff or listen to the velvet tongue recite poetry in a foreign language. It’s preposterous and deranged to think that way of the enemy. They are rivals. This game of cat and mouse cannot run itself into anything but the solid rules of enemy vs enemy. 

Of course it’s not unbecoming of a gentleman to simply take the note with him for evidence. Yes of course, it is simply evidence that can be used as a gateway into maintaining close contact, enabling the ability to gain the upper hand. 

Even when the upper hand is exactly what he wants wrapped around his engorged flesh as he thinks about salacious encounters in a dingy motel room on a creaking couch.

**Author's Note:**

> I am like a hardcore angel dust X husk shipper but my brain just couldn’t leave this idea alone. Comment and kudos’ are appreciated, thank you!


End file.
